Notes and Scales
by Ria
Summary: *Is based on both the book and the musical* After the mob has finally left his lair, Erik comes out and contemplates what he must do next. This leads to a more pressing matter --- can he ever trust anyone again?
1. Shattered Remains

Notes and Scales Notes and Scales**Disclaimer:** The Phantom of the Opera is copyright to Gaston Leroux, the genius who actually wrote the book. The musical is copyright to Andrew Lloyd Webber. I'm making no profit off of this, and nothing of theirs is mine. I'm only borrowing it for the sake of writing this. The only things that are mine are any original characters I might throw in there, such as Julie, the plot of this thing and the actual fic itself. Please don't sue, okay? :-) 

_This fic came about when I was struggling to come up with a decent plot for a Phantom fic I was thinking of doing. I had read several from fanfiction.net and quite frankly, the standard terrified me. I'd gone through several ideas that were either too unrealistic, or needed more work and were to be left alone until I could develop them properly during the summer, when my exams were over. And then, this came. I was listening to the musical soundtrack (yet again) and when it came to the ending, I found myself wondering what the Phantom would do after that. Would he stay in the Opera House or would he leave? Would he ever be able to trust anyone again? And somehow, this thing ended up in my head. I didn't want to do this at first --- I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it, and thought I'd probably get flamed at or something for the plot I'd chosen. I knew this was not going to be Erik falling in love again --- in my opinion the last thing he'd want to do would be to fall in love again, but I had to work out exactly what I was going to do. And then I realised Erik was probably going to have some major trust problems after everything that had happened to him. And then and there, I got my whole plot point. I was very happy! This doesn't exactly follow everything as it is supposed, as I have a tendency to switch things around and add things in here and there, but I do hope it isn't too bad. So, to those of you who are reading this , I hope you enjoy it. Any comments or criticisms you might have I invite you to share, but please be gentle --- this is my first ever attempt at doing a Phantom phic. And naturally, I had to do it from Erik's point of view... ::sighs:: Anyway, enjoy, hate, love it and everything else! ^_^   
--- Helen (Ria) 13/5/2001_

**Chapter One: Shattered Remains**

It occurred to me, as I walked to my destroyed organ, how foolish I had been. I touched the shattered keys with fluttering motions, my fingers trembling, as I stared in disbelief and horror at what had once been one of my most prized possessions, now destroyed. How fleeting happiness was, how quickly it soared away to give way to miserable existence once more. I had thought after Christine had left me, that the worst had been over. But I had realised, disappearing into the shadows as the mob burst into my lair, that the worst had yet to come. 

I had watched, unable to do anything for fear of getting myself killed, as they deliberately destroyed the place I had made my unlikely home for so many years. Watched helplessly, knowing that everything I now saw would be relived in my memory with crystal-clear clarity for years to come. I had an impeccable memory. For the first time I loathed it deeply. I had given a silent cry in my mind as my beloved organ was smashed, winced at the despairing sounds it made as its keys had been broken. Thank God I had hidden all of my music and compositions earlier. I had hidden it in a place I knew they would never discover. 

My eyes had narrowed as I watched little Meg Giry --- whom I had promised her mother would be Empress one day --- reach down and gently lift up my mask. How dare she?! My eyes blazed, as I had momentarily contemplated whether I should step from my shadows and retrieve my mask, before fleeing. There was nothing left for me here. So why bother staying? Then I had heard her whisper, so faint that not even my hearing could nearly pick it up, "I shall keep this for you. It shall be in Christine's dressing room if you want to retrieve it." With that said, she had stood up, my mask held tightly in her grasp. Before any of the enraged mob had seen her, she had disappeared upwards towards the opera house above. 

I had watched her go with a confused feeling inside me. Unlike her mother, Meg had never shown any particular liking to me. In fact, it had been her who had helped rise the cries of, "It's the Phantom! He's here!", when anything went wrong. As much as the publicity might have helped, it hadn't been very enjoyable. 

So why had she helped me now? Out of pity? Anger momentarily surged inside me as I continued to mourn over my organ. If she was, then I would take no acts of charity from her. Even her mother had never openly shown pity for me, even though I imagined she must have felt some. Mme. Giry is simply like that. 

I sighed, biting the inside of my cheek. I had to go up sooner or later, to retrieve my mask. They might begin cleaning out Christine's dressing room soon, and I could only imagine their reaction to the sight of my mask there. That would probably lead to another mad riot, which I really didn't need. Or worse, what if Christine herself came in and found it? My eyes widened at the horror of it. She'd throw it out or worse. In my current state of mind, logical thinking had disappeared. 

That decided, I smoothened out my disarrayed cloak and made my way towards the boat. I had to retrieve my mask. And then... and then I would decide what to do. I had no other choice, had I? 

~*~ 

Her dressing room was exactly as I remembered it. Although admittedly in more of a mess than usual, due to the fact it had been Open Night a few hours earlier. My mouth twisted in a rueful, bitter smile. How long ago that felt, when they had been about to put on my own opera! It felt like it had been years ago! In some ways it was. 

I knew better than to waste time, dawdling on memories that were worth nothing now, not even space in my memory. With that in mind, I went swiftly to her dressing table, scanning the surface impatiently. Ah, there it was! I picked the white half-mask up carefully, and placed it on my face, using the mirror as a guide only when I was sure I would not have to look upon the horror that was _that_ part of my face. Securing it tightly, I relaxed, safe in the knowledge that if someone did happen to burst in uninvited (and with this place, no one could be sure), at least my face would be covered. 

I dawdled then, because I did not want this chapter of my life to be finished. I did not know when or where the next chapter of my life would begin, or if it even would. There was nothing left for me now. Christine was gone, presumably to marry that irritating childhood love of hers in a few months time. The Opera House would take months, even years to recover from what had happened, what I had helped cause. It would be the biggest scandal to occur in months, with two deaths that were only explainable alongside a myth! And even my home was gone now. Music or darkness held no appeal for me either. 

For the first time in many years, I felt a haunting fear curl up inside my stomach. What had happened to me? Had Christine changed me that much? But I was alone now once more, but this time I had nothing and no one to turn to. I was in very serious trouble. 

So deep were my thoughts, that I did not hear the warnings signs that someone was opening the door. I only heard too late, as the door was pushed open. Feeling like a trapped deer, waiting for the final kill, I stayed rooted to the spot, quivering with fear and fright. 

It was Christine and Mme. Giry, I recognised them before they turned to face into the room. I saw their expressions change as their eyes met mine. Mme. Giry's became startled, while Christine's was simply one of fear. That hurt me more than anything else had that night. She was afraid of me. After I had even told her I loved her, after everything she had said and yet she was still afraid of me. I had the distinct impression she did not believe me, nor those words I had spoken to her. 

For one extraordinary moment, time froze. None of us moved, both standing still, not bearing to tear our gazes away, lest something should happen. I remained suspended, ready to move in a shapeless blur to the mirror and go down to my destroyed lair again, if one of them even opened her mouth to call for someone. 

Surprisingly, it was Christine who spoke first, or should I say moved first. "Erik," she whispered quietly, saying my name slowly, as if she could hardly believe I was really there and that this and everything else was happening and had happened. She stepped forward, her arm outstretched, reaching for me. 

For one horrifying moment, I received a flashback. She was reaching for me again, only this time her nimble fingers caught my mask and tore it away from my face. Even as I was raising my hand to shield the terrifying sight of my face, I knew she had seen it already. I could hardly watch as she flung herself away from me, dropping the mask. Her eyes had widened and she was beginning to succumb to the frightening reaches of panic. I thought she was going to scream. And then I lost my temper... 

I had had enough. "No!" I gasped, leaping away from her. "No, not again!" I veered to the side, flinging myself towards the mirror. Somehow I had left it still open, so all I had to do was trigger the change and I was being swallowed, my images racing around me. Then there was only the sweet, merciful darkness and I was running. Running away from the light, from Mme. Giry, from _her_, from everyone and everything. At last, I was home. 

But in another way, I wasn't. 

~*~ 

Two days after that fateful night, I discovered a note for me in Box Five. It was safe to wander around the Opera House now --- everyone had taken a well-deserved break and there was no danger of anyone seeing me. Somehow, I knew the break would be a long one, and I was glad. I had no desire for human company, after what had happened with Christine, but in some strange way, I still missed it. In some way Mme. Giry had been a friend to me of sorts, one of the few who hadn't judged me. I missed her and the talks she had with me. And I had not forgotten the favour I was keeping to thank Meg for saving my mask. 

I had decided to visit the box for old times sake, and had been quite startled to see the note there, addressed to me in a plain white envelope. It took me many times not to glance around to make sure no one was looking - it was extremely hard to remember there was no one there - and carefully opened it. This was a good a time as any. I made my way to a seat and sat down, dropping the envelope to the seat beside me as I slipped the folded paper out. The note was not long by any means, and was concise and meaningful. It did not blather on, and for that I was glad. It had been written by Mme. Giry. 

_**Erik,**_ [it read]   
**_Many greetings to you, although I am near certain it is not greetings you particularly want at this present time, is it? I am sure that you are aware that Christine and I were most distressed after the incident that occurred in her dressing room. But, to be truthful, we were more concerned about you, than we were ourselves. That was not like you Erik, to flee as you did. I know you are probably hurt and extremely angry over Christine's decision and choice, and what the rioters did to your home did not help the situation, but you are not acting like yourself. _**

While our managers have given all of the staff this week off, I will try and come to see you if you wish me to. If you do not want me to, place a piece of red cloth near the Opera entrance and I will not come inside. Leave things as they are if you wish me to. I am prepared to talk if you would like to sort out your thoughts. 

You probably want to know what has happened these past few days. Christine has taken the next few months off, claiming to stress and exhaustion. In truth, we all encouraged her to do this, not just the managers. We do not know if she will renew her contract with them or not. The Vicomte went with her, and apparently they are still engaged. It is known that he is eager to wed, but Christine is unsure. I believe she is still afraid to let you go entirely. 

You will be glad to hear that Carlotta is planning on leaving Paris and possibly France, but now with the uncertainty that surrounds Christine, we are not sure whether to be fearful or overjoyed. Without a Prima Donna, what have we? We are also short a Main Tenor, thanks to your quick work with Piangi. Be assured I am not berating you, only stating a mere fact. 

I promised myself I would not go on, and I shall keep to this. I shall hopefully meet you in a few days time, or if not, I am sure our paths will cross again someday. Fondest goodbyes to you my friend. 

Amities,   
Mme. Giry 

I closed the paper with a troubled look. For one of the first times ever I was annoyed with her. There was such a thing as mothering someone too much, and I was afraid Mme. Giry was falling into that trap with me. She always had been too concerned about me. I sighed and looked at the opposite wall with troubled and yet unseeing eyes. The doubts which had surfaced after the mob had destroyed my home had never left, and I was still contemplating whether or not to leave the Opera. 

In some ways it made perfect sense to leave, seeing all that had happened to me here. But in another sense it seemed foolish of me to leave. This was my home. It had been more like a home to me than the place of my birth had been. How could I leave it? 

It was a very troubling decision, and if I was honest with myself I wasn't looking forward to having to make it. With the air of someone defeated in almost every way, I turned and hurried out of Box Five, with no clear idea where I was going, or what I was going to do. 

~*~ 

Another two days later, I looked up from my seat behind the piano on the stage, to see Mme. Giry standing at the edge, watching me with an odd expression on her face. I quickly slammed the cover of my _Don Juan Triumphant_ closed, unwilling to let her see what I had been playing, knowing full well she would have recognised it anyway. After all, she had been a part of the production of it during those past few weeks and would have heard those pieces countless times. But I was still shy about playing them in front of anyone else, even her. My opera was still so personal, such a secret part of me. It had been my life's work. It had never been fully played out on a stage. It had gone to the final scene and it hadn't been played fully. This was partly my fault, due to the fact I had kidnapped Christine myself during that scene. But it had been necessary, and at the time getting Christine had been more important than my opera being played to an audience. Now however... I wasn't so sure. 

"I recognised those pieces," she said to me, walking forward. She didn't seem surprised when I didn't answer, instead focusing on the piano keys in front of me as if they had become the most fascinating things in the world. "Somehow I did not expect you to reply to that." Again, I didn't answer. "You played them marvellously." This time I granted her the privilege of a nod. She didn't get frustrated, much to my own surprise. The silence stretched, and I began to regret not putting out a piece of red material after all. The last thing I wanted to do was talk. 

At last she spoke again. "So what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" The very question I had been dreading. Charming. At least I felt I owed her an honest answer. 

"At the time when I received your letter, I thought I wanted to talk to someone. Now I realise that talking is not one of my more important priorities. I'm sorry," I added, not wishing to start an argument. 

But she was very understanding. Nodding, she went onto more impersonal news, just general rumours concerning the Opera House itself. "They're saying now that the managers are going to be bringing in a new girl to be Reyer's assistant. She is supposed to be quite talented at composing and playing. Although why we need someone else with Reyer I don't know." 

"He must be thrilled," I said dryly, raising an eyebrow. I could imagine the man's reaction well. 

Mme. Giry nodded, her eyes twinkling. "He's ecstatic. He's been storming around the place in a foul mood ever since he was told, rude and angry to everyone. He says they'll be firing him soon and putting that girl in his place." She laughed slightly. "I pity the poor girl already!" 

I smiled. "Reyer will not be the most kindest to her." 

She nodded. "They don't want to start looking for a new soprano yet, as they want to wait for Christine to give them her answer. But they cannot find a new tenor." That odd look returned to her eyes. "It's a pity you could not volunteer." 

"More's the pity," I answered dryly. "You know well why not." 

She nodded regretfully. "Alas, yes I do! But one cannot help dreaming, can they not? You should at least try and get that published." She nodded toward my closed copy of _Don Juan_. 

I felt my eyebrow shoot up, as I regarded her suspiciously. "I do not want it published Madame," I said at last, fighting to keep my voice calm. "Those who knew of it then would cause mayhem trying to get it off the market again." 

She agreed reluctantly. "I should think you're right. Still, it is a pity. It was a vast achievement." 

"It shall continue to be an unseen one." My voice was stern now. I did not want her to start playing tricks on me and planning secretly behind my back. 

Perhaps she sensed my growing annoyance, for she quickly changed topic. "What are you planning to do now?" I guessed she meant my life in general, and thought about it before I answered. Then I felt like I had to tell her at least part of the truth. I was still unsure whether to leave or not. 

"I'm wondering if I should still remain here," I explained. "There is nothing really left for me here. My own home is destroyed. My life is. My heart. What is the point of staying, when all that remains with me is bitter memories and experiences?" I knew she would not like this, but I nevertheless waited for her reaction. It was as I expected it to be. 

"Are you mad?!" she cried, looking at me with wide eyes. "You cannot possibly go! The Opera Populaire is your home Erik! No matter what anyone says or does it is still your home! And you are not completely alone; you have myself and Meg. We will stick by you! Please, I beg of you to think through this carefully!" Her eyes were wide, her gaze imploring. I had known she would act this way, but the sight of her made me want to reconsider. I sighed. 

"Very well. I will continue to think about it. You'd best leave now." She nodded, standing up. Quickly saying a goodbye to me, she turned and left the Opera House. 

The first thing I did when she left, was place a piece of red cloth near the entrance to the Opera. 

~*~


	2. Introducing The Girl

**Chapter Two: Introducing The Girl**

**Disclaimer:** The Phantom of the Opera is copyright to Gaston Leroux, the genius who actually wrote the book. The musical is copyright to Andrew Lloyd Webber. I'm making no profit off of this, and nothing of theirs is mine. I'm only borrowing it for the sake of writing this. The only things that are mine are any original characters I might throw in there, such as Julie, the plot of this thing and the actual fic itself. Please don't sue, okay? :-) 

It was two weeks later. Everyone was back to work, apart from Carlotta, whom, it had been accepted, would never again set foot in this place, and Christine, for whom no one knew any definite answer. The strain of an absence of a soprano was beginning to show on my managers' faces. I may have gone back to hiding for the moment, but their troubles were far from over. 

I observed that Reyer was indeed in a rather foul mood. He was even more snappish than usual, banging out the chords in such a manner that made me wince for the piano's sake. A temporary woman had been brought in for Christine's place, and the poor thing was practically having fits. Reyer was having howling incidences with her on a daily basis and the other members had been making unfair comparisons to her against Christine. Even I could tell it was a bit much, and it was coming to the point where I was wishing I could teach her for a few days to make her voice good enough just until Christine returned. _If_ she returned... 

Reyer had finished his latest argument with the new soprano and I was observing silently in the shadows of Box Five, when the entrance doors to the Opera House opened and a young woman stepped inside. She did so in such a manner that she drew attention to herself, even if that hadn't been her intention. I could sense her discomfort as everyone turned and watched her walk up towards the stage. 

"Please," she asked, her voice ringing out loud and clear, "could someone please tell me where the office of the managers is?" I noted that she seemed to be very unconventional and wasn't sure whether to be outraged that she had such blatant disregard for the rules of society, or admiring that she had the courage to have such disregard. She was dressed in a man's dark trousers with shoes, a plain white shirt and had a faded dark jacket on over it. A small leather bag was slung over her right shoulder and her long, dark brown hair had been tied loosely at the nape of her neck. She made her way onto the stage, still waiting for an answer, not realising that everyone was staring at her in amazement and shock, even Reyer. 

It was also Reyer that happened to recover first, hauling Meg up to the front, hissing at her that she was to show this woman where the office was. When the dancer tried to refuse she almost quaked at the icy look Reyer threw at her. With a resigned sigh, she walked forward. I couldn't hear what they said, but judging by the polite expressions on their faces, I guessed they were exchanging formalities and greetings. Then she turned to lead this new girl to the office of my managers. I immediately raced after them from Box Five, taking several shortcuts that I alone knew about. 

No one else knew it, but there is in fact a small --- an _extremely_ small --- passageway between the inner wall of the managers' office and the room next to it. It isn't big enough to even be granted the title of corridor, but I had discovered that I could move about in it. It was very uncomfortable, but I could use it if the need was necessary. I now crouched in this corridor, leaning slightly against a patch of wall that I knew was part of the office's inner wall. I could already hear the faint murmuring of Andre and Firmin, whispers that immediately quietened as the door opened. 

"Ah Mlle. Renard!" I heard Andre exclaim, and she exchanged a polite greeting with him, and also I presumed, with Firmin. "How excellent of you to arrive at such short notice! We are extremely grateful to you!" 

"It was no trouble M. Andre," she answered, and I heard her voice take on just the barest curious taint. "It was no trouble at all, seeing as no one else was willing to volunteer for the position. For some strange reason, they are convinced that any who step into the Opera House now, will automatically be cruelly massacred by a Phantom of sorts." I blinked. Apparently many knew of me now. 

I could practically sense my managers' dismay. "Do not believe such ridiculous rumours my dear," Firmin hastily replied. "I assure you there is no Phantom here." _Would you speak of me so easily Firmon, if I were to send you my notes again?_ I wondered, but quickly diminished the idea. Since Christine was not here now, and there was no Carlotta, there was no reason for me to make my presence known anymore. Indeed, there didn't seem to be any reason for me to remain here at all. 

"I do not believe rumours Monsieur," she answered coldly. "I will only believe in this Phantom if I see him myself!" My interest was immediately piqued. _And what if you were to see the Phantom? How would you react then I wonder?_

"Ah," Firmin said in relief. He was obviously happy beyond belief to have finally found a staff member who was not easily brought in by legends and rumours. Reyer would have fits if his new assistant had anyway. The man was very stern and disapproved of all nonsense and foolishness. Perhaps he might even approve of this new girl. 

"Well, we are very glad to have you with us," Andre continued. "We have your contract here and if you would just sign it ---" 

"May I take it with me and return it tomorrow?" she interrupted as politely as she could. I fought not to grin. She obviously knew this business well, if she read through every contract she received as thoroughly and as carefully as she implied she did. Well, this girl would certainly cause a stir here for a while! 

My managers did not immediately reply. Then Firmin said, "Why of course. If you would feel more comfortable having read through it..." 

"I would." The answer was said bluntly and firmly, with still a hint of politeness. 

"Very good." No doubt they were wondering what on Earth they had got themselves into. 

I immediately slipped out of the secret passageway as I heard the shuffling of feet and the closing of doors. No doubt Andre and Firmin were going to formally introduce her to the cast and the rest of the staff, as they themselves had been when they had first been new. Such a long time ago. I remembered the note I had sent to them through Mme. Giry, welcoming them and giving them a brief overview of my wishes. That had been the start of the troubles, when they had refused to take me seriously. As I approached Box Five, a new idea struck me. Perhaps I should send this girl a note myself, welcoming her. From the brief words I'd heard her say and the fleeting glimpse of her, it was unlikely she would easily accepted here. Then I was left wondering why I was taking such a personal approach to this one girl, who didn't even believe I existed. 

I had just settled into a seat once more in the shadows, when Firmin and Andre appeared on the stage, with the Mademoiselle a little ways behind them. Immediately all work stopped and attention was placed on the two men who had been through so much this past year. To be frank, I rather admired them for still staying at it, after everything I had put them through. I had expected them to give up and move onto more safer occupations. 

"May we have your attention?!" Firmin cried, and then found he already had it. "This is Miss Julie Renard, the newest member of our staff here. She is be an assistant to M. Reyer, and will also be taking part control of our orchestra. We wish you to welcome her here, and to refrain from inventing any foolish stories to set her at unease." At this sentence he cast a reproachful eye at the _corps de ballet_. I correctly guessed that he was remembering the many times they had risen the cries of "The Phantom! He's here!" and generally sent the rest of the cast and crew into panic. I remembered as well; it _had_ been me they were screaming about after all. I watched Julie's eyebrow rise slightly at his last sentence, but she said nothing, only nodding and bowing politely at the cast. The women immediately twittered amongst themselves at the scandal of a young woman _bowing_ and wearing the clothes of a _man_ at that! But she did not seem to notice, or perhaps she was so used to it by then that she simply ignored it. 

Rehearsal resumed after that, with Julie staying to one side, mainly observing silently, but mentioning the odd comment or question to Reyer, who seemed surprisingly happy for some reason to answer them. That was surprising, the man was generally a loner at heart, with Mme. Giry as his only friend. A young woman who blatantly defied all of the rules of society had not seemed to be the material to become his second friend. But the merest hints of a developing friendship were already apparent, or at least a decent enough working relationship. At least they wouldn't tear each other apart and the rest of the cast and crew along with them. 

Perhaps it would be wise to remain here after all. My home could eventually be repaired. It would take time, but I would be able to do it. And it seemed that things were going to become interesting, seeing the first reactions of the people here concerning Julie. And it seemed Julie herself would be an experience to this place as well. She was a vast reminder to everyone that times were changing and that a new century was starting to become frightfully near. 

Yes, I decided. I would stay around after all. Besides, what was the Paris Opera without its dear Phantom? 

~*~ 

It was the next evening, and I was doing my usual routine of wandering around the Opera. It was extraordinarily late, and most people had gone home. It was safe to walk around, or so I thought. I was humming under my breath as I walked, until I decided to launch into a few bars of one of the Principal Tenor's pieces. It was from Chalumeau's 'Hannibal' which was being put on once again to mark the first year of the new managers' time here. That had been the Opera being rehearsed and put on when they had first arrived to their positions here, completely unaware at what had been about to happen through the months. It was very ironic, but perhaps that had been their intention. 

The young man that had been quickly placed into the role of Main Tenor was extremely untalented, but indeed thanks to my work with Piangi there had been nothing for it. It still didn't stop me from wincing every time the man opened his mouth to try an attempt at singing. His voice wasn't just untrained, there was no singing ability in it. How he had come this far to land in an Opera House was beyond me. 

While my heart had been broken by Christine, my voice had not, and it was still the same as ever, rich and talented, a large comparison to the inadequacy of my face. Sometimes I even let myself fantasise about what might have been if I had been born with both a wonderful voice and an attractive face. My talent would have been regarded with open arms and I would have possibly ended up in an Opera House quite like this one, in position of Main Tenor. People would not have been repulsed by me. My mother would have loved me. Christine might have loved me. 

How seriously people depended on the features of a face to judge one's character. It seemed that personality never mattered, it was just appearance. No one would ever accept me for how I was inside --- all they would ever see was a mask and a grotesque face underneath it --- if I ever let them see my face that is, which was usually never. I had let Christine see --- or rather she had taken it upon herself to see --- and look what had happened there. 

I went through much of the Tenor's work before finally stopping and giving my voice a rest. It was then I heard it: violin music. I froze, the first thought flowing through my mind being, _Perhaps they heard me._ If it was one of the crew I was in trouble. They knew how badly the new tenor sounded. They also knew that Andre and Firmin were desperate to find a new, talented one and would have known if anyone talented had already been here. Then I realised that if whoever had was playing was practising as they _should_ be (paying attention to their music and only that) than they probably hadn't heard me at all. But my voice wasn't exactly something that could be easily ignored. 

But there was one thing I was sure of --- I had to find out who was playing. With this in mind, I quickly followed the music, going through several corridors and rooms until I found myself in an empty, deserted part of the Opera House, where not many ever went. Approaching the open door from where this magical music was coming from, I warily peered around it. When I recognised the musician, my eyes widened. 

It was Julie, a polished violin in her hand, a bow in the other that moved across the strings in perfect time. I watched, spellbound, as emotions spilled from herself and the instrument and into the air: happiness, sadness, love, fear, lust, anger, rage. They spilled from one continuous melody that left even I, with my vast knowledge of music, breathless. I knew precisely then, why she was assistant to Reyer and took part control over the orchestra. She knew exactly what she was doing. 

After a few minutes I jerked from my trance and realised it would not be wise for her to see me, not with the stories the others would undoubtedly tell her. About the vicious masked man who behaved like an animal and wielded a Punjab Lasso with deadly skill. No, it would be not be wise to reveal myself to another woman, even if it had been unintentional. Quietly, I slipped away. Even before I had descended towards my home, I had decided to do something I had never imagined myself doing --- I was going to write her a note. 

I did not expect her to believe me. She had told Firmin and Andre herself that she would not believe I was there until she saw me myself, and with my reluctance to show myself to her, the chances of a meeting were slim to none. But I had to try, and someone had to congratulate her on her skill with a violin. I had the impression she did not play to many people. But I still could not understand why I was getting so involved with this girl. I did not want any occurrence along the lines of the one that had happened with Christine. I did not want to be faced with another mob. 

But perhaps, I realised later, I did want a friend. 

The next day it was done. I found Mme. Giry that morning and she was happy to pass on the note for me. I did not expect a reply, but that evening, to my surprise, she found me in Box Five, absently cringing over the temporary (Oh, how I hoped he was temporary!) tenor's pathetic attempts at singing. She did not say anything to me, eager to get back to her own rehearsals with the ballet girls, but quickly dropped a folded note into my lap. Before I could thank her, she had gone, leaving me staring after her in surprise. Then I turned my startled gaze to the paper in my lap and picked it up. 

I opened it quickly, and scanned it. By the time I had finished I was shocked and stunned. I settled down to read it more carefully for the second time. It was short, as short as the one I had sent. 

**O.G.** [it read. I had obviously not put down my real name]   
**You could imagine my surprise when I was approached by Mme. Giry and given a note of all things. When I read it, my surprise lengthened, as well as my anger. I do not like playing in front of people you understand, and as a result, do not particularly like having people listen in when I do play. But Mme. Giry assured me that you were a fine judge of a talented musician and singer and were both yourself. She also mentioned that praise from you is something that rarely comes, and that I should be proud, grateful and flattered that you had given me such astounding praise. I shall take her at her word, but I was most perplexed when she said you were not a part of the cast here, or at least not a public one. **

I should very well like to meet you O.G., but when I happened to mentioned this to Mme. Giry she was adamant that I never, ever try and meet you. I am very much puzzled by this, particularly since you seemed to have gone to the trouble to contact me by giving her the note I received. I leave this to you to decide, and I will understand if you do not wish to arrange a meeting, although I shall continue to be very much puzzled. 

Oh, and before I forget Monsieur, you are a very fine singer. You would do a much better job than our current tenor. You were not the only one listening in that night. 

Amities,   
Julie 

To say I was surprised would be much an understatement. I was astounded! So she had also heard me sing that night. Well. We were both even on that matter so. I thought about it for the remaining time of rehearsal and when it was over, I stood up to return down below and begin my own note of reply to her. But I knew one thing: I was not going to meet her. I was not going to put myself in a similar situation as I had been before. 

~*~


End file.
